Well, now i'm certain. Though again, certainity is fleeting. I personally feel that something that remains unsaid, unspoken, unfinished is more beautiful than something complete. Initially, with respect to certain things, i always felt that it should never remain unspoken and unsaid and die an unfulfilled death. But now i guess i'm convinced that the beauty anything unfinished is much, much more beautiful.
I like the unsung song, the yet un-climbed mountain, the unfinished painting. The pregnancy of expectancy, of silence. It is so much more beautiful.
I fear and thus have decided that i'm never telling the one what i feel. Making something obvious, coming clean, stripping your thoughts of their protection of the consciousness that is you, spoils everything. It spoils the spontaenity. I fear it shall change her, alter her. Once the poison is injected it begins working its way through the significant other. She is a dream, and i don't want my consciousness to break through and overpower my subconciousnes. Let them remain and enjoy the priceless heaven they have been fateful enough to beget. Therein lies my salvation, my redemption, my only joy, my only pain, undiluted and pure.
And this is best for both, i believe. Because emotions are fleeting. Religion and faith are strong. And yet the person who yeilds to these is weak. Shackling your mind with some constant and unyeilding dedication (i presently like to believe) is a sign of weakness.
The very motivation pushing me to write all this is sourced at the fact that things are still unsaid, unheard and unspoken. The urge to make something complete is mammoth, and this is precisely what makes the unfinished so attractive and appealing. Yes paradoxical it is, but true it is.
Challo then no more complexities... maybe i shall come clean some day... owe you an example...- bye
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